pop song
inside i’m like you
i taste like doritos
my blood as sweet as processed sugar
or maybe i taste like drought dirt
genetically modified
i waddle around like the livestock we raise
high on methane and pumped full of antibiotics
we’ve given the grass cancer
but i’m still standing up for coca-cola
bringing crystal pepsi back from my bunker
hiding from the koch brothers
and the boys at lockheed martin and boeing
a walking open carry law
slinging in the rain of a deluge in texas
keeping up with the kardashians
i want to know what miley
and beyoncé and taylor and kanye
are all doing on a saturday night
because i’m sitting at home getting drunk
just a cisgender stiff easing out of the workweek
as the dogs bark loud into the soiled, bass-filled air
and thug sirens wail the fear and mendacity
of the law of the land
because there ain’t not cure for the summertime blues
but i gotta tell you
this monsanto shimmy in the morning
ain’t making me no money off the street cams
i’m broke as a joke, my nigga
and i got so many friends
i have to save up my dollars
to purchase their defense funds
but, oh, i promise to look the other way
should it all go to shit
or i’ll fight a proxy war with my neighbors
cash in my trillions in war bonds
wine and dine the french and the germans
start a revolution from my bed
call the pentagon and give them six-hundred millions reasons
why they should lend a hand
fly my drones in the park
on a sunny sunday afternoon
relaxing in the rubbery zeitgeist
until my stomach aches
then it’s twenty miles above the speed limit
back into the insatiably hungry abyss of america
looking for the golden arches
with god on my side at the drive-thru
riding shot gun to a motherfucking pop song
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